


Starve This Sin

by GoldenJezebel



Series: Emma/Knightley [3]
Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Banter, Coitus Interruptus, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, French Kissing, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Premarital Sex, Rough Kissing, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Shameless Smut, Some Humor, Trapped In A Closet, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, dom!Knightley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenJezebel/pseuds/GoldenJezebel
Summary: Pt 1: Emma and Knightley get locked in a closet. Somehow, things don't turn out quite as planned.Pt 2: The lovers succumb in Emma's greenhouse. (Graphic sexual content warning.)
Relationships: George Knightley & Emma Woodhouse, George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Series: Emma/Knightley [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703383
Comments: 28
Kudos: 314
Collections: Fics to Live For (In BrytteM's Opinion)





	1. A Sticky Situation

**Author's Note:**

> ***I changed the title from "Locked Up" to "Starve This Sin" (a Bring Me the Horizon lyric from their song "Deathbeds"), simply because "Locked Up" didn't fit the second chapter's mood/plot at all.***

Emma wasn’t quite sure how drama and intrigue always managed to find her. After her rather charged dance with Knightley, she had informed him she was having a bit of a headache, and wished to retire. Ever gallant, he had offered to see her out to her carriage.

The only problem was, they never made it to the carriage.

While rummaging around through the coat closet (the servant on duty was oddly missing), someone or some _thing_ had bumped into them, and the door had unceremoniously swung shut.

Knightley was upon the door in an instant. He tugged and pushed on the knob, swearing sharply under his breath while jiggling the handle. “Hello?” he called. Furiously, he started banging on the door. _“Hello?_ Oh, blast it all!”

Nervously, Emma’s hand fluttered toward her throat. “Did you try pushing?”

Knightley laughed bitterly. “No, I tried shutting us in – of _course_ I tried pushing!”

“No need to get testy!” she snapped.

Surely someone was on the other side? How could the hallway already be abandoned? The party was still in full swing, seeing how she could hear the lively music, but that didn’t mean no one would hear them…

_Did it?_

“It would seem we are trapped,” Knightley said. “Unfortunately, I cannot see a blasted thing, so I am unsure of what else to do…”

With a gruff little grumble, Emma pushed him aside and said, “Allow _me_ to try then!” Giving him a nudge to his ribs, the blonde slipped in between him and the door and frantically jostled the handle.

"Why...do you mean to tell me it's _locked?"_ Knightley taunted, feigning a look of surprise. "Well, I just cannot believe this! I could've _sworn_ I had tried that exact same tactic mere moments ago, so _surely_ it should open now!"

Emma gave him a dirty look. "Quiet! Instead of making sport of this situation, you could actually be helping!"

“I _have_ been helping!” he hissed. “Why ever did you need my help in the first place? I wasn’t aware that finding a _coat_ was a two-man job!”

“Well, if I’d known you would be so _bumbling_ in your efforts, I would have asked Mr. Churchill!”

That seemed to do the trick. Knightley immediately clammed up, and though she couldn’t see his face in the dark, she could practically _feel_ the indignant heat radiating from his taller frame. His broad shoulders tensed, and she heard him release a low, even rush of breath.

“Mr. Knightley?”

He ignored her. Seemingly determined, he cornered her toward the left and began pressing his palms against the wall, feeling along the wooden planks with grim persistence. Emma flushed at his close proximity.

“What on earth are you doing?” she demanded. “Do you truly believe these walls are made of tissue paper?”

Defensive, he snapped back, “Some old houses have trapdoors and secret rooms… We have already determined there is no way out through the proper exit, so why _shouldn’t_ I do this?”

“Because, you silly clod, you are standing on my foot!”

Knightley halted above her, his warm breath growing ragged as they remained completely still. His foot finally moved, and Emma made a sorry sound at the loss of contact. She could practically _feel_ his mouth over hers.

“Why did you ask me along?” he whispered.

His breath rushed over her lips and Emma squirmed, grateful to the lack of light. “It’s just as I said: I have a headache, and-”

“Why me?” Knightley persisted. “If you _truly_ believe Mr. Churchill is such a godsend, why not ask him instead?”

Emma laughed nervously. “To fetch a _coat?_ That hardly seems necessary…”

“You know what I mean, girl.”

Normally, she would have berated him for referring to her as such, but something about the low, coarse growl of his voice made her pulse wetly between her thighs.

Attempting to save face, she feebly pushed on his chest. “Know your place,” she snapped. “I am not about to be bullied by some mealy-mouthed, simple-headed-”

Knightley crashed his mouth into hers, silencing her excuses with the harsh, bruising slant of his lips. He pulled on her hair and pressed her further into the wall. Emma moaned softly into their kiss, sending a jolt straight to his cock as he devoured her soft, eager cries.

With her fingers threading through his hair, Emma managed to hook one of her legs around his waist. The act conjured memories of their dance – of how they’d been entwined and writhing and _alive_ through only a simple touch. But now Knightley was pressed against her, solid and hard and _aching_ while he rutted against where she was softest.

 _“God,”_ she whimpered. Emma sagged against his chest and gasped, mewling when Knightley supported her bottom and hefted her up against the wall. Her legs wrapped more securely around his waist, and her hands skimmed over his shoulders while she parted his lips with her tongue, kissing him with years’ worth of pent-up urges and a fierce, needy sense of desperation she’d never felt before. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. More and more and _more_ of him. The throbbing between her thighs demanded it.

Knightley groaned, and then he was hitching up the silk of her gown and undergarments. Their tongues tangled and he jerked forward, grinding his cock into her clothed, aching center. Emma was so wet that she feared she had seeped through and rubbed off on him in a sticky, glistening streak.

She moved to plead with him, but Knightley lapped at her mouth, silencing all logic as he rocked their hips together. It felt animalistic and immoral – _dirty_ – and they rutted together against the wall, licking and biting and _scratching_ with stifled need.

Dropping her flushed face against Knightley’s shoulder, Emma bit down on the fabric and muffled her sharp cries. He whispered her name, and then his hand suddenly dipped into her drawers, stroking along her slit while he rubbed himself against her stockinged thigh. He felt no better than a dog – a filthy, disgusting animal hellbent on his own release. She bucked up into his hand, and the closet soon became filled with their soft, ragged breathing and the obscene sound of his hand working strongly between her legs.

“Emma,” Knightley choked out, “Emma-love, I need you to cum…”

The admission both thrilled and scandalized her. She had heard whisperings of such filthy talk before, but _never_ from a gentleman, and most _certainly_ not her would-be lover.

His fingers circled her bud with several brisk, fevered strokes, and Emma could already feel herself spasming.

That was when the door opened.

The two promptly broke apart, Knightley staggering to the right while she let her skirts fall back into place.

Silent and horrified, the servant who was _supposed_ to be on duty peered back at them, blinking rapidly while he tried to assess the scene. “I’m sorry, I…um…should I come back later?”

Emma straightened with poise. “Don’t be silly,” she admonished. “Mr. Knightley and I were searching for our coats, and somehow got locked inside.”

Rushing to her aid, Knightley agreed, “Yes! And, uh…” Quickly, he snatched a random coat. “Here is mine now! Crisis averted.”

Emma _did_ finally find her rust-colored overcoat (which just so happened to match the red in her cheeks), and without looking the servant (or Knightley) in the eye, she stepped over the threshold and bustled off for the exit.

Swiping a hat from the rack, Knightley drew it down over his erection and offered the servant a sheepish smile. “Good evening then,” he said, and with a stiff, uneven gait, he turned and stumbled after Emma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break this into two parts, because I would eventually like to write them having sex (hard to believe I haven't done that yet!). I'd had a request on one of my other one-shots to write Emma/Knightley on their wedding night, but since I've already seen that done a few times, I think I'm going to try something premarital (gasp!) and in Emma's greenhouse. I feel like she might enjoy sex amongst nature (though it'll definitely take some convincing, 'cause I doubt she wants to potentially be seen!). Anyway, you all have been amazing, so thank you so much for the kind words and encouragement! <3


	2. A Rose by Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to include tropes I haven't seen yet in this fandom (or at least, not where I've been searching), so here's a bit of dom!Knightley for you. As a side note, it's surprisingly hard to write "old-fashioned dirty talk." I hope you all enjoy! <3

Emma avoided Knightley for three days. He would spare her looks over tea, but she did not reciprocate – _couldn’t_ reciprocate for fear of a sharp, throbbing ache flaring up between her thighs. Thoughts of their tryst had tormented her each hour upon the day, so she didn’t trust herself alone with him. Not that this was a common occurrence. It was improper, for one, and two, her beloved father was typically at her side for most hours of the day.

On this particularly sunny afternoon, however, she found herself in her greenhouse admiring the flowers. She had excused herself without an escort – why did she need a handmaiden just to admire flowers? – and with a fond little smile, she ran her gloved fingers along one of the delicate blooms. It was so pretty…so _temperamental._ Much like herself, she mused.

Deciding to remove her gloves, she tucked them into the reticule at her hip, then resumed in stroking the soft, silken petals. She had read scandalous literature that compared a woman’s sex to flowers. It made her wonder if this was what Knightley had felt…he’d certainly opened her up like one of these blossoming blooms, and with a shallow breath, she dropped her hand. There was no need to fall in line with such depraved thoughts.

“Miss Woodhouse?”

Whirling around, Emma gasped. “Mr. Knightley!” she choked. “Goodness, you scared me!”

“My apologies.” His eyes crinkled in that warm, amiable way that made her heart dance, and he stepped farther into the small building. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Not avoiding you, no,” she lied. Lifting her hands, she fiddled with the nearest posy, if only to dodge his beseeching gaze. “I have been quite busy.”

“Oh? In what regard?”

Mouth tensing into a tight, unimpressed line, she snapped, “Must you pry? Surely our…s-surely the _party_ didn’t cause your sense of decorum to go flying out the window?”

“Rest-assuredly,” Knightley said.

There was an unmistakable huskiness to his tone, and flushing, Emma moved on to a thorny rose. “Speaking as such is inappropriate.” Her eyes darted upward, but when their eyes met for far too long – needful, _yearning_ – she immediately looked back down. “Have you no shame?”

“I would be delighted to have shame,” he admitted, strolling farther into the greenhouse. “Perhaps if I did, I would dream of you far less.”

Emma halted in her scrutiny of the flowers, her shoulders tense and her heart racing. “Mr. Knightley, you forget yourself,” she warned.

“Indeed, I do,” he whispered. “For the past three nights – three long, _agonizing_ nights – I have been punished by the sight of your face behind my eyes…of the sweet pressure of your mouth, your helpless sounds, y-your…” He trailed off, swallowing. “Forgive me. If I have spoken out of turn, I apologize… It’s just that you have inflamed me unlike any other.”

“Any other?” Trembling, Emma forced a smile. “Do you mean to say there have been other women?”

Not having anticipated the deflection, Knightley clasped his hands behind his back and nodded, hesitant. “Yes,” he admitted. “I am considerably older than you, Miss Woodhouse, so I have had dalliances. The only problem is, none of them were you.”

Biting her lip, Emma resumed her exploration of another rose. “If you truly feel this way, why have you taken so long to come to this conclusion?”

“Propriety, mostly.” With a weak smile, Knightley moved in closer still. “But now that we have breached that point of no return, I would like you to consider your options. As a woman of an unshakable, permanent fixture in my heart, you deserve to state just what it is you want: about the when, the how, the circumstances…” His voice lowered to a dangerous octave. “…and _positions.”_

Emma jerked at this declaration, gasping in alarm when she pricked her finger on a thorn. Hissing under her breath, she drew her bleeding appendage to her chest and winced, quivering from both Knightley’s close proximity and the dark, unyielding fire in his eyes.

“Allow me,” he whispered. Gently enfolding her hand in his, he leaned forward and stroked her knuckles. Emma was about to ask what he was doing, but the protests died on her tongue when he sucked her injured finger into his mouth.

_Oh…_

Helpless, Emma watched him consume her. His tongue flicked over her shallow wound, slow and savoring, and they locked eyes as he kissed her fingertip. A responding throb pulsed wetly between her thighs.

“Mr. Knightley,” she whispered.

“My dearest Emma,” he whispered back. Taking hold of her chin, he captured her mouth in a warm, fervent kiss. The transference of blood to her tongue was… _odd,_ but not altogether unpleasant. He angled his face more strongly into hers, still clutching her hand between their chests.

“Oh, Mr. Knightley…” The words rushed out against his mouth. Gripping his coat with her free hand, Emma slumped against him and shuddered.

“Shall I please you, Emma?”

Without truly thinking, she nodded. _Yesyesyes._ “If that is what you desire…”

Nosing her cheek, Knightley’s lips grazed the corner of her full, rosy mouth, and she panted in anticipation. “If we were to disrobe right here, right now, you could ride me by your pretty little flowers,” he whispered.

Scandalized, Emma’s face grew bright pink. “Right _here?_ Out where anyone can just happen by?”

Unable to help it, Knightley chuckled. “I have just asked you, a virtuous young woman to pursue debauchery, and yet the _location_ is what you object to?” She spluttered in response, but he placed a finger over her lips. “I just want you to be comfortable, Miss Woodhouse. Whatever you desire, I will give.” Lowering his gaze back to her mouth, he vaguely wondered if Emma was aroused, and if said arousal had seeped through her chemise. The thought made his cock strain against his breeches.

Emma drew a breath. “This is all so very sudden, and…and _wrong,”_ she warned. “What you are suggesting is immoral.”

“I am beginning to think all pleasurable things are,” Knightley agreed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have touched myself, if only to abate the torment, but it never works…not to the extent that I desire.”

The greenhouse suddenly felt much, _much_ too warm. Emma opened her mouth, closed it, then feebly blurted, “I-I have done so, as well! Um…! That is to say, I have… _succumbed_ to my feelings.”

“How often?” Knightley asked, his voice a low rumble. His hand suddenly tangled through her hair, pulling it tight into his fist. “When do you do it, Miss Woodhouse? When I am nearby?”

“I don’t know,” she choked out, breathless. Their eyes locked, and she whined when his mouth dipped to brush along her throat. His tongue darted out and she shivered, sagging against him while he grazed her with his teeth and tongue. “The way you kissed me at the party, I just…I-I thought I might _die_ if I didn’t get some relief.” Quivering, her breath hitched when he squeezed her left breast. Her nipple hardened beneath his palm. “And this conversation is very… I-I might need to do it again. _Please,_ Mr. Knightley…”

“Please _what?”_ he rasped, his breath warming her skin.

“Please touch me… _Please_ show me what to do.”

Pressing a kiss to her neck, Knightley trailed his lips up toward her ear and squeezed her nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. “Are you wet for me, Miss Woodhouse?”

 _“Yes,”_ she breathed, shocked by her own admission. “Very much.”

“Then show me.” Knightley withdrew for a moment, his eyes burning into hers as she struggled for breath.

Finally, Emma seemed to sober up. “Right here? _Now?”_

Taking her by the chin, he forced her to return his gaze. “Yes,” he whispered, _“right here._ If we get on our knees, no one will ever see us.”

They stood there staring at one another for a long moment – Knightley impassioned, and Emma barely able to breathe – until at long last, the latter sank down at his feet.

He watched her, drinking her in as she sprawled out and looked to him expectantly.

“Lift up your dress,” he commanded.

Chewing her lip, Emma quivered and reached for the hem of her skirts. She lifted the garments up over her legs, slowly, before bunching the fabric up around her hips. She was bare underneath.

Tonguing the corner of his mouth, Knightley appraised her with his large, riveting eyes, then palmed the bulge beneath his trousers. A soft hiss escaped him as he squeezed his cock.

Flushing pink from the way his eyes ravaged her, Emma meekly asked, “What must I do, Mr. Knightley?”

Rubbing himself with more aggression, he bit out, _“Show_ me, Miss Woodhouse – I want to see how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

For a long moment, Emma was horrified. Her knees had still managed to retain her modesty, so his request made her feel far, _far_ too seen… _vulnerable._ Nevertheless, she hated to admit that she rather liked the way this made her feel. She had never before seen a man so eager for her, so _hungry_ and at her mercy.

Slowly parting her legs, Emma drew a breath and bared to him her swollen, glistening slit.

A groan caught in his throat and with jittery limbs, Knightley tugged himself free of his trousers and began stroking himself. His curls hung in his eyes and he swore softly, barely able to look at her. The visual stimulation had suddenly become far too great.

Emma was overwhelmed. The sight of his bare cock, hard and slick with pre-cum made her entire body quiver with need. So much so that she reached between her legs and stroked her bud, shyly at first, but then with growing courage. Knightley clearly desired her. She could do a lot to a man like that…

“I remember how you feel,” he whispered. His hand moved faster between his legs, jerking and stroking as a sharp breath caught in his lungs. “I fought so hard to be a good person – to let you go and move on with my life – but I’ve come to the conclusion that I am _not_ a good person, Miss Woodhouse, and right now, I only wish to ravish you.”

Emma trembled. By now, she had almost grown accustomed to his filthy talk, and as she arched against the ground and moaned softly, she looked to him with pleading eyes. She wanted to say she remembered how he felt too – that she was aching for him, and that she wanted more than anything for him to claim her with need and aggression, but no such words escaped her. Instead, all she could manage was a feeble gasp of his name.

“I need you to show me,” Knightley said again. “Keep your legs spread so I can see how much you need me.”

Emma leaned back on her elbows, her knees bent as her hand worked tirelessly between her thighs. She was a panting mess – beautiful and flushed as she gazed up at him with her wide, entreating eyes. The flush of her cheeks began to spread down toward her heaving breast, and, frustrated with his clothes, Knightley pushed his trousers down until they were riding around his knees. The newfound freedom allowed him to lean forward, breath hitched as he beat off excitedly.

“Emma,” he entreated, his eyes smoldering. “Look at me.” Her soft whimpers made his cock jerk against his palm, and with each smooth, vigorous movement, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. "I want you to put your fingers inside yourself, nice and slow – just enough to keep you ready for me. I don't want you coming undone until I say so. Do you understand?"

Emma’s eyes widened as he leaned towards her, working himself fast and hard, making her own breath ragged and a small moan escape her lips. She managed to nod at his command. It was sweet agony, staving off her climax as her body ached for it, but she did as he requested, easing two fingers into her slick heat and gently pressing where it made her tremble. “I feel so warm and soft,” she whispered. “All tight and snug and wet… It feels really nice around my fingers.” She moved them in and out slowly. “This makes me get a lot wetter. It feels so good...”

Knightley felt a spasm run through him, a low groan catching in his throat as he listened to her mischievous words. Emma’s fingers traced along her opening teasingly, once, twice, before pushing inside again with an ease brought on by the thick, sticky wetness that coated her hand and trembling thighs. Her movements were gentle and cautious, probing deeply enough that her toes curled with each careful thrust. The slick, obscene sounds were akin to a wet kiss. Knightley’s cock throbbed and he pushed his trousers down the rest of the way, his breathing shallow as he stepped out of the garment. He wanted her. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to pin her down and fuck her into the stone floor, hearing her sharp, keening cries while her nails tore into his skin.

“Do you dream of me touching you?” Knightley was on his knees then, pulling her toward him so that his leaking cock ground against the curve of her thigh. “When you touch yourself, do you pretend I am there to cum inside you?”

“Yes,” Emma choked out, “always…” She pressed her thighs together so that he could work himself between them, the feel of his warm, hard cock driving her mad with need. It would be so easy to slide down, spread herself around him, and fuck herself on what he was so desperately rutting, but she behaved herself.

Knightley’s lips lowered toward her own and he licked at the curve of her mouth, his breath coming out white-hot as he stroked and pulled on himself between her thighs. Though Emma deserved to be romanced and treated gently, Knightley crashed his mouth into hers with a bruising intensity, his free hand pulling and tugging on her hair as he ground his erection down between her legs. He spurted wetly against her thighs, moaning into her mouth as his tongue tangled with hers. “Cum for me, darling,” he whispered against her lips. “I need you to cum…”

Knightley’s hand in her hair and his rough, passionate kissing made her arch up helplessly. Emma went back to working her nub in fast, tight little circles, her feet tingling and her leg muscles going rigid as she cried out into his mouth. She was so sensitive that it barely took any time at all before she came, her eyes wet and body spasming.

Eyes fluttering from the overstimulation, several low, deep groans rumbled in Knightley’s chest and he kissed along her neck, hearing her shaky breath as she writhed against him, her wet cunt pushing down into his thigh as she rode out her orgasm.

She never wanted this feeling to stop. Breathless, Emma asked him, “Don’t you want to know what I taste like?”

Her words had Knightley’s cock fattening up again. He pinned her hands above her head, bringing them nose to nose as Emma laid open and vulnerable beneath him. “Yes,” he lowly said. Never taking his eyes off her, he brought his lips to her clothed, heaving breasts, then began a slow, torturous descent toward her shivering middle. Now supporting her rear with his hands, Knightley lowered himself between her thighs and pressed a deep, open-mouthed kiss against her slit, his tongue eagerly dipping inside her heat in order to taste the sweet, tangy flavor of her excitement. He nosed at her bud, his head lifting in order to show her wetness coating his lips and chin. He licked at his mouth, then crawled back up the length of her so he could cup her face between his hands. Brushing his thumb along her cheek, he whispered a soft, “You’re perfect,” before bringing their lips together, the kiss firm, but gentle in comparison to the haste of their past affections. Kissing the corner of her mouth, he reached between them and teased her opening with his fingers. “It’s quite unfortunate that you came without my tongue or cock inside you,” he whispered.

A shiver of excitement gripped Emma as she realized she was at his mercy. Her cunt throbbed and ached. She made a small, needy noise as Knightley teased her slit, his words making her shiver. “Do you think we could…now? I am ready, I promise.” Her heart raced just thinking about it. “I need…” Emma forced herself to say the words, though she looked away, unable to stand the intensity of his gaze. “I need to feel you, Mr. Knightley. I do not believe I can wait any longer… _Please._ It’s torturous.”

Momentarily, a look of concern tore across his lust-veiled features. “We cannot take this back,” he reminded her. “I wish I could vow self-control, but I know that the moment I let you take me in, I shan’t be able to stop.” His thumb brushed along the smooth curve of her lips. “You have overwrought me, mind, body and soul, and I wish for nothing but to be destroyed upon your altar.” Between her legs, his hand rolled more persistently, his thumb toying with her sensitive bud as his middle and index fingers rubbed along her tight opening. Knightley smeared their mingled fluids against her slit and breached her, sliding in to his knuckles as he opened and flexed his fingers. His movements were careful and deliberate instead of fast and forceful.

Emma tightened up around his fingers, letting out a breathy sigh as she rocked her hips against him, grinding down slow and sweet to match his rhythm. “Then succumb to me,” she whispered, biting her lip. “Take what is yours…”

Enraptured by her erotic expressions and sounds, Knightley watched Emma intently as he rocked his hand into her heat, his forehead pressing into hers as he hovered his lips over her gasping mouth. She was so beautiful. With her skin flushed and her tightness gripping his fingers, he yearned to replace his hand with his cock and have her screaming for her release. He pressed sporadic kisses to her crown, being supremely careful with the way he handled her. He loved her. Despite the savagery of his lust, it was apparent in his touch as he drew her in close. 

"Come here," he whispered. His eyes were dark and intent on her as she rolled her hips in needy, sluggish waves against his hand. "For you, the lady of my dearest affection, I only seek to provide comfort… Do you wish to sit in my lap and face me, or would you prefer to face your lovely garden?”

Flushing at Knightley’s peculiar proposal, Emma laid there in growing bafflement. “Shan’t I remain like this?” she asked, indicating her prone position.

“No.” He shook his head. “If you are to retain comfort, I wish for you to be taken in such a way that allows it.” Noting her hesitation, he took Emma’s hand and gently rubbed her fingers between his palms. “You needn’t worry,” he soothed. “This is new to you, so I do not intend to push you in any way – this is _your_ pace, so please do not feel as though you need to prove something to me.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Still throbbing, Emma assured him, “I care not for gentleness, Mr. Knightley…I only wish for pleasure – yours and mine.” Lifting a hand, she cupped the side of his face. “Even so, perhaps it would be a bit more… _proper,_ should I face away? At least in that regard, I can retain a hint of modesty.”

Knightley had to smile. “Then sit up, my darling. Just turn around…that’s it.” Rotating her so that she was on her hands and knees, he got Emma to back up between his legs until he could lift her, his hands supporting her weight until she was straddling his lap with her rear pressed into his stomach. Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he began to dot a series of burning kisses along her skin, his hand palming her breast as his thumb traced along her clothed nipple.

“When you’re ready, I want you to ease yourself down…right here,” Knightley whispered. Beneath her, he stroked himself to a painful rigidity, his breath already ragged in her ear as he indicated where she must go. “This position allows you more control, and thus, you will also feel less pain.” Fondly, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Remember what I said: this is _your_ pace. I’ll stay completely still until you need me to move.”

Knightley’s assurance calmed Emma and his kisses made her weak. Slowly, she fumbled beneath her. She could feel him – hot and hard and _throbbing_ – and her breath caught. With his other hand moving to her hip, he helped her balance herself as she eased herself down around his cock. It was almost effortless, as dripping wet as she was. At first, he felt so big and hard that it was uncomfortable and she wriggled around, moving up and down, trying to adjust to the strange new feeling. He was warm and pulsing inside her, and she felt a sudden wave of emotion at them finally being together in this way, at the physical closeness. They belonged to each other and she would never love anyone else.

 _“Please,”_ Emma begged.

Knightley nuzzled into her cheek, holding her close as he cautiously pressed down on her stomach. His breath caught, and then she was pushing downward, slowly coercing his cock inside her until he was gripping at her waist, his teeth clenching as she slid down to the hilt. Emma was so wet and tight that his head began to spin. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Emma shuddered at that, not accustomed to hearing him swear.

Knightley could tell the stretch was deep for her, given the way she gasped and arched. Now reaching for her chin, he turned her head over her shoulder and brought their lips together, beginning to carefully jerk his hips as she rode him. Licking at her mouth, he groaned into the kiss and used his touch to guide her, propelling her with his hands so that he pushed her repeatedly into his lap. Anytime she came down, he jerked upward, attempting to deepen her pleasure as his cock swelled inside her. He moved one hand to her cheek and broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to her shoulder as she arched and whined. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. With women, expressing genuine affection had never been easy, but Emma was the first – the absolute _first_ – to garner such a strong need in him to love.

Emma felt her whole body flush at his words. When Knightley said it, she felt it. _Yes,_ she was beautiful right now, bare before the man she loved and all lit up from the inside, raw and vulnerable, wild-eyed and messy-haired and shamelessly coming undone on top of him.

She let Knightley guide her into a steady rhythm, instinctively tightening around him each time he pushed upward, letting out shuddering breaths and soft moans. Her fingers found her bud and she rubbed lightly, gasping at the increased friction as Knightley massaged her walls with his hard cock. Her eyes fell shut and she whimpered, overwhelmed by pleasure.

The tension in Emma's cunt massaged him and Knightley steeled back a hiss, his jaw clenching as she gasped and bounced in his lap. While she rubbed her bud, he cupped her hand with his, guiding her so that she fingered her sensitive nub with several brisk, concentric circles.

"Let me," he pleaded. Encouraging Emma to stop touching herself, Knightley bent her forward so that her palms were pressed flat against the stone floor, thus allowing her to back into him with several slow, forceful thrusts.

"That's it," Knightley encouraged, rapidly rubbing her bud from side to side. "Take your pleasure, darling." He could feel her tight, needy heat gliding up and down the length of him, their movements growing more desperate as the end approached.

Emma let him take over, breathing hard while Knightley plunged even more deeply inside her. The sensation of his thumb rubbing her bud overwhelmed her, and she let out a strangled cry as she throbbed around him. Nothing had ever felt this good, and tears pricked her eyes as she moved faster and faster. “God,” she choked. “Oh, _God,_ I…I _can’t…”_ She gasped for air. “It feels so good, _so_ good…” She squeezed tightly around him as warm tingles shot through her whole body.

Palming her breast, Knightley rolled up into her pounding descents and grazed his teeth along her pulse. "I'm not going to cum until you do. Emma, darling, I need you to let go..." He rubbed her bud more furiously, his hips beginning to jerk upward with relentless force.

Emma realized Knightley was fucking her for real now, hard enough to hurt a little bit, but in the most satisfying way. She slammed back against him in response, feeling her orgasm building up inside of her.

While Emma whined and pleaded, Knightley grew electrified by her muffled gasps and cries. He watched the way her waist arched and rocked into his hips, his fingers still rubbing manically at her nub as he listened to her whimper. It inflamed him, and he mentally steeled himself so that he wouldn't cum before she did. He slumped down over her back, still using all of his body weight to channel into his harsh thrusts. He seized a fistful of her hair and yanked so that she was forced to look at him over her shoulder, his mouth sliding over hers in a messy, ardent kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

When Emma finally climaxed, it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, her body shaking so hard that she gasped and whimpered. She cried out his name over and over again, riding him hard until she was raw and sore and faint, wanting to feel like this forever – so over-sensitized that it was almost unpleasant, but she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to feel the emptiness of him pulling out.

Knightley growled at her, feeling her thighs twitch and quiver from the effort of supporting her own weight. Emma jerked down into his lap, flickering around his driving arousal as he continued to pound into her with several harsh, dizzying thrusts. Each movement brought Emma up off the floor, his own cries catching against her lips as her walls continued to clench and throb around him. That was when he could no longer hold back. Falling heavily against her, Knightley bit down on her shoulder and growled against her skin, his hips driving strongly as his cock twitched, throbbed, and released inside her wet heat. He continued to move his hips long after he'd come undone, draining himself dry. He enjoyed claiming her in this way – making sure that she was desperate and reeling and _his._

With a low groan, Knightley kissed his way from Emma’s shoulder to the crook of her neck, nuzzling into her cheek as he panted shallowly. Meeting with her gaze, he pressed a soft kiss to her throat and teased her nub with his fingertips, feeling her spasm one final time around his cock while they knelt there gasping. He continued to arch and grind against her body, breathless as he kept himself buried deep between her thighs. "Are you...?" He struggled for breath, still tracing patterns across her skin. "Are you all right?"

“I love you so much, so, _so_ much,” Emma murmured in response, riding out the aftershocks.

Something blossomed deep inside Knightley, but he did not falter. Instead, he gently disengaged Emma from his softening cock and pulled her into his arms, pressing his forehead to hers as he held her face between his hands. “I love you more,” he promised. “We shall be together for as long as you need me.”

Love was a difficult emotion for him – obscure and fleeting and sometimes intangible – but with Emma, he knew he was consumed from the inside out, reaching for her as she lured him in like a lighthouse on shore.

Emma smiled at Knightley’s words, collapsing against his chest and burying her face against his shirt. She felt exhausted in every sense of the word, but also delightfully sated. Kitten-like, she curled into him, a drowsy kind of contentment – happy like a cat in a sunbeam, basking. Knightley’s fingers in her hair sent shivers down her spine, and she leaned up to kiss him again. His lips were warm and he tasted like home, like _hers._

After tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Knightley withdrew with a warm smile. “No matter how improper, I suppose we now have the proper practice for our marriage bed,” he said.

Emma blinked up at him, astonished. “Did you actually just…was that your way of _proposing_ to me, all breathless and untidy?”

Knightley flushed. “W-well, I suppose that _was_ a rather lacking proposal. I could always try again…?”

“No. I rather like you untidy.” With a bright grin, Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fond, proper kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed and stuck with me! I feel a little embarrassed since I wrote over 4k words of smut, but hey, these two deserve it!


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